


Other Planes

by pocket_cheese



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Coming of Age, High School Reunion, Multi, One Sided Attraction, Seijin no Hi 成人の日, Twisted love, but don't worry nothing happens she's just creepy about him, canon-typical namie lusting after seiji, if you can call it that, izaya shinra and namie are BAD people, kadota is so done, shizuo is just a good guy with issues™, tom is shizuo's guardian angel tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13463049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocket_cheese/pseuds/pocket_cheese
Summary: Shizuo is a loose cannon. One could argue that Namie is too, only the damage she causes is intentional. Namie is like Izaya, the sort of person who'd go straight to hell, but Izaya isn't ready for that, because Izaya loves life, and he loves people. The only 'person' Izaya doesn't love is Shizuo. No, Shizu-chan requires a special ‘love’ all of his own, and Izaya will never allow him to love anybody else. Especially not Yagiri Namie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> bōnenkai - ' a Japanese drinking party that takes place at the end of the year, and is generally held among groups of co-workers or friends'
> 
> furisode - 'Furisode are the most formal style of kimono worn by young unmarried women in Japan. The furisode is made of very fine, brightly colored silk, and is commonly rented or bought by parents for their daughters to wear when celebrating Coming of Age Day the year they turn 20.'
> 
> NOTE: This is set a few years pre-canon.

The end of the year passes with a blur of b ō nenkai, endings interchanging with beginnings as December fades into January. Yagiri Namie sits alone at a bar, an expensive glass of wine in hand and a Hermes bag at her side. The image wouldn’t be unusual in itself, were it not for the fact that the cocktail bar isn’t designed for lone drinking, and Namie isn’t waiting for anybody. It’s nearing 1am, and not once has she found herself straying from the chrome and leather bar seat. Her colleagues have long since left, possibly motivated by her aversion to her own promotion celebrations (workplace bonding, she thinks, should end where it starts). Ambient house music trickles from the speakers, and her nails tap against the stem of the wine glass with little regard for the beat. It’s slender, fragile, and in the space of an hour the bartender has crushed two between his fingertips. She’s been watching him all evening  — seeing the tension build in his shoulders and a muscle start to twitch in his jaw even as he twirls a lighter between his fingertips, dutifully setting passionfruits alight for the evening revellers. Given their fascination, she supposes that they didn’t see him earlier, slicing yuzu and pomegranates with enough force to leave debris on the counter. He, she thinks, is much more of a delight to watch than a flame so easily extinguished.  


* * *

Night time ebbs into morning, and the streets are lined with bleary eyed salary men and women wearing brightly coloured furisode. It’s a strange mix of people: middle aged men stumbling home after a drink too many, groups of families and friends hailing taxis, intent on seeing the second national holiday of the year to the end…the tide going out and the tide coming in. Two friends walk amidst the crowd, absorbed in their own disparate worlds. Against the chaotic bricolage of Tokyo’s streets, Kishitani Shinra blends in seamlessly, his well-tailored, charcoal suit tying him to the crowds clad in traditional and formal dress. The connection is superficial at best  — Shinra is unmoved by the surrounding festivities. After all, his attendance at the Coming of Age ceremony wasn’t inspired by a sense of community. Having turned twenty the previous April, the liberties of reaching the age of majority are of little novelty to him. His motivation for wearing such an ensemble was inspired by something entirely different, and his focus is on that alone.  
  


“Today was the day, Orihara-kun, the suit must have clinched it!” Shinra beams proudly, smoothing imaginary creases from his jacket. A single glance at his companion is enough to tell him that Izaya’s attention is directed elsewhere, but he continues anyway  —  Izaya never was a fan of Celty. He watches his former classmate’s expression, fixation giving way to rapture as an older man starts to argue with a teenage girl. There are tears streaming down her face as the man gesticulates wildly, the iphone he’s clutching almost flying from his hand. In the centre of all the drama, Izaya appears as an uninvited guest on a movie set, clothes carefully selected for him to meld in having the opposite effect as they traverse a strip of high-end restaurants and bars. Of course, they’re still distinguishable for those who know what they’re looking for, and Shinra almost laughs aloud at the idea of fur being synonymous with something as formidable as Orihara Izaya. Since leaving Raijin two years ago, Izaya has successfully made a name for himself as an information broker to the underworld. His danger doesn’t lie in such affiliations, nor his penchant for orchestrating all kinds of morally ambiguous affairs. It’s in his unabashed enthrallment at the misfortune of others, the excitement born from their bad decisions and enticing naivety. Izaya is not what many people would consider to be a ‘good person’, and Shinra’s apathy to such observations makes him no better.  
  


Unaffected by Izaya’s inattention, Shinra continues to chatter animatedly, using the lack of response as an opportunity to exalt his beloved. He is yet to find anyone who shares in the sentiment that Celty is an angel of the highest order, but the twinge of sadness he feels for her under-appreciation is a small price to pay for the lack of competition. He’d rather have everyone in Tokyo regard her as a scythe-wielding demon than compete for her love.  


“My Celty’s so decent, I’m sure the only thing stopping her before was the age gap  — but after today she’ll see me in a new light!”

Tearing his eyes away from the crowd, Izaya turns to Shinra, a hint of amusement playing across his lips.

“The age gap between you is never going to get any smaller, Shinra. Gaps of that magnitude are so insurmountable they become insignificant.”

“I can always rely on you for encouragement! Does that theory apply to personality differences too?” 

His tone is innocent, but it’s a dig, thinly veiled as a question, and Izaya sees right through it. He frowns almost imperceptibly, and slides his hands into his pockets.

“I’d have thought that you’d have enough intelligence to realize that the ‘opposites attract’ theory only functions to a certain extent. You can’t expect to be so different to somebody that you’d form a connection from it.” 

“But you  _ can _ change for somebody else. I would for Celty.”

Izaya scoffs, checking the time on his phone. He’s irritated, and Shinra relishes how easy it is to leave him disgruntled (though to anybody else, Izaya wouldn’t show it).

“Have you ever thought that maybe love lies in adaptability?”

Shinra smiles wryly. Any second now, Izaya will make a cutting remark about how securing somebody’s affection by changing for them isn’t love at all.

“I’m sure that ‘love’ spawned from lies is the truest of them all, wouldn’t you say, Shinra?”

It’s a predictable jab, and of course Izaya would choose to turn a question probing his personal life into a criticism of Shinra. He doesn’t understand that Shinra’s whole existence depends on hiding the truth about Celty’s head from her. 

It’s amusing, really. Izaya talks about love often, always easy remarks of dubious conviction, but one scratch beneath the surface layer and his amiable charm transforms into a shell of self defense. By society’s standards, Izaya’s idea of love is twisted. He sees the hypocrisy in eliminating personal flaws for the sake of another and counting it as all-encompassing love. Humans are to be loved to the marrow of their bones. To their most sordid desires. He wants to push people for the sake of their autonomy, to uncover their festering wounds, even if doing so is at the cost of deliberate deception.

“I know why you didn’t come today. You knew that Shizuo-kun wasn’t going to be there, didn’t you?”

There’s a theory that the beating heart of love is comprised of several different sinews.  _ Agape  _ denotes love for all of humanity, whilst  _ Pragma  _ signifies love developed over time  — the kind of love that people, in an excessive show of sentimentality, say ages like fine wine. Shinra learnt early on that Izaya’s ‘love’ for humanity is influenced by a fear of exclusivity. For those whose hearts can be so easily torn asunder, it makes more sense to tread a line of infatuation than to commit to a single person and risk their rejection. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I hate Shizu-chan.”   
  
And perhaps it makes more sense for those too weak to accept their feelings to label them as hatred. Shinra wouldn’t know, but he wasn’t surprised to find himself following Izaya up the stairs to Shizuo’s workplace. 

He knows him better than Izaya thinks.

* * *

 

 

The information broker’s entrance to the bar is about as welcome as Maleficent’s at Aurora’s Christening. The man with dreadlocks, whose name badge reads ‘Tom’, pales, seemingly frozen to the spot before he hastily restocks shelves with new glasses, certain that there will be many more broken tonight. Shizuo digs injured fingers into his palms with enough force to make blood bloom through the plasters, and Namie takes a long sip of wine, because things look like they’re about to get interesting.   
  
“Shizu-chan! Who’d have known you could get a job in a place like this? One shot must be worth more than you earn in a week!” He’s grinning, his elbow planted firmly on the counter when Shinra grips him by the forearm and pulls him away.

“Shizuo-kun, is Kadota-kun here yet? It’s unusual for him to be late, but it won’t be a reunion without him...oh, and don’t mind what Orihara-kun has to say. His personality hasn’t improved since high school!”

A vein throbs in Shizuo’s temple, and Namie wonders how much longer it will take for him to throw the fridge at Izaya. He’s clenching and unclenching his fists rhythmically, his eyes focusing on a point in the distance, and Namie can tell that he’s trying his best to calm down. Izaya’s rivalry with Shizuo is responsible for 99.5% of his destruction of public property, and yet here he is, resisting the urge to wrap his hands around Izaya’s neck and throttle him to death. From what she’s read, it’s progress on Shizuo’s part, but it’s a dangerous line for Izaya to tread when Shizuo could snap at any moment.  The idea of Izaya being a bored adrenaline junkie isn’t enough to explain his propensity to repeatedly provoke Shizuo, and if Namie didn’t know any better, she’d say that he has a thing for Shizuo’s strength. The bartender is, after all, ‘inhuman’; so much so that even Namie’s team of researchers decided that the amount of manpower and sedation necessary to take him down would be unviable  — and yet, what she’s read about him doesn’t fit with what she’s seen of him tonight.

He’s managed to control himself well so far, but his ability to resist impulse doesn’t stretch much further. Even his close proximity with Namie doesn’t stop him cursing under his breath, and Tom throws her an apologetic glance before touching Shizuo on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the night off? I can handle the bar on my own.”

“But-”  
  
“ Yes, Shizu-chan, take it off! As much as I’d like you to make drinks for me, I’m sure Tanaka-san’s will settle.” Izaya’s eyes are dangerous, and the smile he shoots Tom is so sugary his shoulders tense uncomfortably. Tom frowns, silently weighing up his options. As the manager, he’s within his rights to ask Izaya to leave, and yet the threat of a flick knife lodged in his side isn’t particularly appealing. Izaya is one of the few people in Ikebukuro you don’t want to get on the wrong side of, along with Shizuo, of course, yet the difference between them couldn’t be greater. At his core, Shizuo is a good person whose emotions are easily shaken, and Tom is sure that’s what Izaya’s here to do. The informant is playing a game, and Tom doesn’t know his place in it yet, nor is he sure that he wants to know. Begrudgingly, he slides a drinks menu in Izaya’s direction. 

Izaya’s expression is calculated, and he smirks as he lazily pushes the drinks menu back to Tom. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take two specials.” 

Shizuo has pulverised most of the fruit, so Tom sets about making drinks with the few stray pieces that are mostly intact, silently debating putting extra sugar in Izaya’s since, in Shizuo's words, ‘he only likes things as bitter as his soul’. Tom isn’t one to hold grudges against people, but Izaya is an exception to that rule. There’s something inherently unlikeable about him, and he’s certain that he’s going to see more of that ugliness tonight.

“Shizuo-kun, why don’t you have a drink with us? We came here especially! It was my idea you see, because I knew that you wouldn’t come to the Coming of Age ceremony, and of course,  Orihara-kun didn’t come because  _ you  _ weren’t there , but you aren’t going to get out of it that easily. It’s only logical that we should celebrate our adulthood by reminiscing our childhood!”

“You’re wrong, Shinra — I didn’t come because it’d be  _ horribly _ distressing, seeing all of the guests fleeing when Shizu-chan arrived...ah, mind you, I’m not sure that Shizu-chan has enough humanity to age the same way as normal people.”  The malice in his tone is tangible, and Namie wonders how Shizuo hasn’t knocked all of his teeth out yet.

“Well if that’s the case, perhaps it seemed irrelevant to you because you’ve been looking after yourself since you were fifteen?” 

Izaya laughs airily, but there’s a glint of menace in his eyes.

“And as I recall, you’ve been chopping people up since you were five...say, Shinra, Celty looked after you from about then — isn’t it incestuous to have feelings for your mother figure?”

Shizuo grits his teeth, remaining behind the counter despite Tom’s instructions.  
  


“Shut the fuck up, flea. Don’t say stuff like that in public.”  
  


“Thank you, Shizuo-kun! Orihara-kun is so inconsiderate, no wonder he doesn’t have any friends.”   
  


“As I recall-”  
  


“Online friends don’t count.”

 

Shinra and Izaya fall into easy chatter as they wait for their drinks to be made, and Shizuo rubs his temple with the palm of his hand, upsetting haphazard strands of hair in the process. There are too many people. The noise is building in his head, a high pitched alarm rising to press on the confines of his skull. It’s unbearable: the noise, the people. Shinra. Izaya. He wants to get away from it all, from himself and his inability to handle the slightest inconvenience. He thumbs the packet of the cigarettes in his pocket.

“I need a cigarette.”

“I’ll join you, though of course I don’t smoke — it’s terribly bad for one’s health. Did you know that a single cigarette shortens your lifespan by eleven minutes? I have plenty of useful information to help you quit if you’re interested...or not.”

Shizuo looks lost in angry despair as Shinra follows him out of the bar. Tom breathes a long sigh, and Izaya smirks, sliding onto the seat beside Namie. There’s several others free, but Namie isn’t concerned. If he thinks he can toy with her, he has another thing coming.   
  
“I’d wait for Shinra to introduce us, but his voice can get annoying after a while.”   
  
Namie pushes her hair behind her ear and turns to look Izaya directly in the eye. 

“What do you want?”

He’s every bit as handsome as in photographs, but there’s a manipulative edge to him, a coldness perhaps even greater than her own.

“Gosh, already on the defensive, though I suppose introductions aren’t strictly necessary, _Namie-san_.” He waves a hand carelessly, accepting a glass from Tom. There’s silence for a few seconds, and his rings clink against the glass as he twirls it thoughtfully.  
  
“What if I told you I want a deal?”  
  
“If you think I’m stupid enough to enter into any sort of deal with you, I’m afraid that people have overestimated you.”  
  
“How laudable of them! It’s always better to overestimate than underestimate, wouldn’t you say? Though in this situation, you’ve underestimated terribly...”  
  
She’s not afraid of what he has to say. He’ll try to pick at her weaknesses, to force her into agreement by using what matters to her most, but she won’t bend to his will. In the short space of time she’s spent with him, she’s already figured out his weak spot, and it’ll be all too easy to use it against him.  
  
“Tell me, how did it feel to be promoted to Chief of Lab Six, knowing that Nebula are waiting to displace you? All those years of working your way up, and the abductions you’ve authorized are finally going to catch up on you...the Chief of Lab Six inciting human experimentation — Nebula won’t need an excuse!  Although if you choose to extricate yourself from the situation now, perhaps poor Seiji won’t be left all alone without financial provision…”

Namie laughs defiantly. “And what will you do if I refuse — have me imprisoned? If it’s the head you want, I’d be grateful to have it out of my life.”

Izaya smiles, and shivers run down her spine. He’s about to say something no doubt exuding arrogance when Shinra reappears.  
  


 

“Kadota-kun is here! Yagiri-san, I didn’t see you there! How are you? Don't tell me that Orihara-kun is bothering you too?”    
  
It’s nauseating, being surrounded by such irritating people, but somehow she can’t bring herself to leave.  
  
“Not so well, considering I might lose my job because of your girlfriend’s head.” 

“Ahh yes, about that.” Shinra scratches his face nervously. “I think it’d be best if we don’t mention that in public.” He takes the seat beside Izaya and proceeds to rattle off all of the reasons that Nebula’s presence at Yagiri Pharmaceuticals is a great idea. Izaya’s expression is blank, but Namie can detect jealousy roiling beneath the surface as he watches Shizuo talking with Kadota. His voice is flat and dry when he cuts Shinra off, and Namie knows what’s going through his head to elicit the change.  
  
“I don't think Namie-san’s interested in your father's medical background, Shinra.”  

“Yes, sorry about that, I get carried away occasionally. Shizuo-kun, have you met Yagiri-san yet?”  
  
Shizuo, who had previously been keeping as great a distance as possible from Izaya, shuffles forwards reluctantly. In the thirty minutes since Shinra and Izaya’s arrival, Shizuo’s hair and clothes have become dishevelled, his cheeks flushed from the strain of self control. There’s a raw sincerity in his expression as he bows his head respectfully, and Namie finds herself relishing it. It suits him — this vulnerability, the messy uniform and dark hair showing at his roots. For all of his fighting and threatening and throwing heavy objects, there’s a humbleness to him, a delectable transparency Namie’s eager to exploit.  
  
And she will, because Shizuo is Izaya’s weakness. She knows what he wants, and she’ll take it from him, if it’ll keep Seiji safe. Seiji, her constant. Seiji, who’s pure and sweet and loving….but Seiji’s a boy, and Namie’s a woman. She’ll continue to nurture him, to love him more than she ‘should’, and in the meantime she’ll do what she has to do to protect him.

After all, the ripest fruit comes from waiting. 


	2. Chapter 2

Shizuo is a lightweight. It wouldn’t be so bad, were it not for the fact that Izaya’s also a lightweight, and they’re in the same building. Shinra’s sole purpose for organising this reunion is probably in the name of some screwed up science experiment, no doubt to see who’ll kill the other first when both of their reaction times are compromised.

 

He’s let Tom down tonight, and no amount of alcohol is making the thought go away. It swirls in his head as he finishes another drink, and his vision starts to swirl, too, but he doesn’t mind. Alcohol is supposed to lower your inhibitions, so maybe if he carries on it’ll work, and he’ll feel better. Maybe he won’t get angry, and maybe he can forget about disappointing Tom. Hell, maybe he can even get through this without trying to strangle that wretched  _beansprout_ , but that’s probably pushing it.

 

They’ve been fighting on the streets daily for months now. Izaya’s fast, so he usually gets away, but even broken bones and a concussion haven’t stopped him from coming back. Chasing Izaya is entirely impulsive, _instinctual_ even, and Shizuo wonders if that makes him an animal after all. There’s no pleasure in it, and when the adrenaline leaves him and he’s wasted another hour of his life on the person who’s trying to destroy it, he’s left with nothing but the sickly embers of dying rage in the pit of his stomach. He wants to hurt Izaya for fucking things up for him,  _wants_ to break his bones and make him bleed, but it’s his nightmares that are filled with images of tearing Izaya limb from limb.

 

He’s afraid.

 

He’s afraid because he knows if his last thread of self control broke away, he could do it.

 

It isn’t like normal anger, when people say things they don’t really mean and make threats they couldn’t possibly fulfil. Somewhere between impulse and action, there’s the underlying thought of potential consequence. It acts as an inhibitor, but Shizuo’s is broken. There’s a problem with the transmission, a skip in the sequence, and it’s only after the action that the consequence hits him full force.

 

He’s afraid that Izaya might make him a killer, the villain stood on a pile of corpses from the manga he read when he was younger.

 

Izaya has been a constant blight on his life since the first day they met. The amount of work he’s lost because of him, even ending up in _prison_ because of him...if it weren’t for Tom, he wouldn’t have this job, and now Izaya’s here to ruin it for him...but that isn’t what worries him the most. Izaya might be the catalyst, but he certainly isn’t the cause.

 

 **  
**“So, er, Yagiri-san, what are you doing here tonight?”  
  
He isn’t good at making small talk, especially not with people like Namie. He likes cats, but he doesn’t own one. He reads sometimes, or watches crime dramas on TV, but they’re usually more annoying than entertaining when the plot twists are obvious from the start. He’s okay at cooking (though packet noodles are usually his main meal when they’re cheaper than buying fresh vegetables and meat) but other than that, there’s not an awful lot to say about himself.

 

A slim wrist reaches out, and Namie trails her fingers over the plasters on his hand. She’s keenly aware of the brown, almost reddish eyes watching her from across the bar.

 

“Does it hurt?”  
  


“Oh, that  — it’s nothing. I’m clumsy.”  _Insanely strong. Capable of hurting you when I want to protect you._

 

The only thing that hurts is having to use the same words his parents did to explain away his strength; euphemism after euphemism, all tinged with the shame that their son wasn’t and still isn’t like other people.  Shizuo fumbles for his phone in his back pocket, anything to look away from her when he can feel his face colouring.

 

She’s pretty. Her hair’s just the length he likes it, falling midway down her back, and the dress she’s wearing highlights her figure without being too much. She’s smart too, Shinra smart, but not in an annoying way. He’d heard her before, talking with her colleagues — that bored tone now replaced by an inquisitive one. He looks up. Her expression is unchanged, but there’s something in her eyes that makes him shift nervously.

 

“My parents.” He offers as an excuse. “They were upset that I didn’t go to the Coming of Age ceremony. I thought my brother might have messaged me.”  
  


“Oh? And what does your brother think about it?”

 

“He said that holding down a steady job is more a sign of being an adult than going to a ceremony.” He shrugs sheepishly.  _All the more reason to fucking hate Izaya._

 

“Wise words. The uniform suits you well.”

 

“Thanks.” Shizuo shuffles uncertainly. “Can I get you a drink or anything, Yagiri-san?”

  
“Call me Namie.”  
  


She smiles, and for a moment, Shizuo feels like he can forget for a while.

* * *

  
Heiwajima Shizuo is a loose cannon. One could argue that Namie is too, only the damage she causes is intentional. At 23 years old, she already holds one of the most sought after positions at Yagiri Pharma. Nepotism aside, her ruthlessness and lack of moral compass designate her as a primary candidate for any leading role in the pharmaceutical world. Namie sees that sacrifices must be made in science, whether they be animals or children, or people who can easily be wiped off the radar…   
  
Namie is like Izaya, the sort of person who’d go straight to hell; but Izaya isn’t ready to do that, because he loves life. He loves people who lie and cheat and steal as much as he loves those who give. He loves dissecting the essence of people, finding it and pulling it apart, sometimes so much so that it can’t be put back together again. That’s what’s fascinating about humans — you can toy with them and toy with them and toy with them, but not all of them will break. Loving everyone is the ultimate sacrifice. It’s extending your love to people who are unloveable, and loving them anyway. The only ‘person’ who Izaya’s love doesn’t extend to is Shizu-chan, because Shizu-chan isn’t a person. He’s a grotesque caricature of a human, one who’s seamlessly assimilated the characteristics of a human being, right down to the awkwardness of liking somebody for the first time, and Izaya hates him for it. No, Shizu-chan requires a special ‘love’ all of his own, and Izaya will never allow him to love anybody else.

  
He watches as Namie leaves to use the bathroom. Shizuo relaxes in his seat, pulling at the collar of his shirt. His jawline softens, and he stops fiddling with the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. It’s the kind of tension that shows he’s trying really hard to impress Namie, and Izaya won’t have it. You see, there’s an answer to Izaya’s fear of hell. Salvation has come in the form of the dullahan’s head, preserved so beautifully in the ice-cold chambers of Lab Six. That head is the solution to the most pressing problem of Izaya’s life (and death), and it’s in danger of being taken away if he doesn’t act quickly. There’s only one option. Izaya needs Namie, and he needs her fast.

* * *

 

Shizuo is having a crisis. His heart is going so fast it can’t be healthy, and his skin feels all tingly.  _She put her number in his phone._ Sure, he’s prone to going a little red when he drinks, but right now must be an entirely different story...

 

“What do you think?”

 

Tom’s arrival couldn’t be more opportune. Shizuo immediately reaches for his cocktail, thinking that a bottle of milk would be more beneficial. He sips it thoughtfully, hoping that the sugar rush will help calm his nerves.

  
“Yeah, it’s good.”

 

“Not of that, of her!”

 

“Oh. Her hair is kind of nice.”

 

“Kind of nice?”

 

“Glossy. You know what I mean.”

 

Tom grins, clapping a hand on Shizuo’s shoulder.

 

“You look good with her, Shizuo.”  

  
Grimacing, Shizuo pulls at the braces he’s required to wear as part of his uniform. His shirt is hanging out on one side, and he briefly wonders if Yagiri-san has noticed.

 

“She put her number in my phone.”

  
“I always said you should believe in yourself more, Shizuo. Women like tall men like you.”

 

“I don’t know, Tom. She doesn’t know about  _me_.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“People are scared of me, Senpai. I hurt people, even when I don’t mean to.”

 

“Look Shizuo, I know you’ve made mistakes in the past, but you’ve changed. You’ve got a job now, and better control of yourself. Izaya is here and you haven’t even touched him. I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though!”

 

“I don’t think I’ll ever change. It’s like something snaps inside me. I couldn’t go today. My parents are angry, but I can’t go to anything like that until I’m a man that’ll make them proud.”

 

“You do make them proud, you just don’t know it. Give yourself a break, and enjoy your night for once. I’m telling you as your manager!”

 

“What should I do?”

 

“Just go with it.”

* * *

 

In the ladies’ toilets, Namie lingers behind a locked door. She’s been in there for over five minutes, but she isn’t using the facilities. She’s sending a text message to her brother, who is also the lock screen of her mobile phone. If you were to find Namie’s phone and look through it, you’d think that Seiji has a stalker. He hasn’t (yet) — just an overly obsessive sister who loves him too much.

 _‘Seiji, I’m sorry.’_ She types, then deletes it.

_‘Seiji, I’m sorry I’m late. I’ll be home soon.’_

Her finger hovers over the send button, but it never makes contact. A tear rolls down her face. Maybe the wine’s getting to her, and that’s why her idea to use Heiwajima was all but forgotten when she started talking to him...yet, there’s no denying that there’s a lightness about him, one that washed over her and blotted out her darkness, if only for a moment, and that scares her. If she does what Orihara wants, she could be done with all this mess. Yagiri Pharma have fallen on hard luck, she knows that, but giving Orihara the head could ruin her. It  _would_  ruin Seiji. Somehow, she knows that keeping the head close keeps Seiji close. The idea of their bond being cleaved is too much to bear, but a part of her that doesn’t like to think about it knows that it’s going to happen eventually.

She studies her screensaver, and wonders what it's like to be looked at with love. Seiji’s face stares blankly back at her. Pocketing her phone, she's oblivious to the three new messages in her inbox.  
  


 _Unknown_  
“Namie-chan, being stubborn for the sake of it is tiresome. I’m growing bored of you already. Since you’re having trouble understanding, the deal is mutually beneficial: you bring me the head, I protect you from Nebula. All I ask is that you plant an itty-bit of evidence to send them on the wrong track ;) Easy, ne?”

 _Unknown  
_ “Oh, I almost forgot...Shizu-chan stays out of this. Next time, I won’t ask so nicely."

 

 

 

_Heiwajima Shizuo_

"Are you coming back?x"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying so far :)
> 
> This chapter was a bit heavy, huh? I'm doing my best to keep it IC, but I feel like the text messages are a bit OOC, so I might change them. I don't know. I'm grateful for any opinions though. 
> 
> Thanks again x


End file.
